


A Summer Trip to Japan

by Mokou



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirk is a transgender guy, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9407966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mokou/pseuds/Mokou
Summary: Dirk Strider is ecstatic at the chance to go to Japan with a few of his classmates. While there, he sightsees, buys anime merchandise, and gets to eat some real ramen, but the biggest takeaway he gets from his trip is his new, dorky boyfriend John.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this entire thing today, in a span of thirteen hours straight. I woke up with this idea, and now it is unleashed into the universe for all to enjoy. You're welcome.
> 
> A lot of Dirk's experiences might seem weird, cliche, or downright impossible to experience, but I can assure you that I wrote him in my shoes during my trip to Japan. Literally all of these things happened to me. I even have the pictures to prove it. B)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading this! <3 Love you and have a good day!

So far in this grueling eleven-hour flight, you’ve gone through the entirety of Selena Gomez’ and Lady Gaga’s most recent albums, and now are on Ariana Grande’s. You check the clock provided on the little screens afforded by the airlines, and yep, you still are only four hours into this flight. You switch to the other screen’s channel. Your plane shows to still be flying above the Pacific Ocean, and you sigh.

When you, Dirk Strider, heard from your Japanese teacher that there was a trip to Japan scheduled for the summer, and that any students could go, you were beyond ecstatic. You tried not to show it, but the prospect of you and a few friends heading to Japan and having a blast there seemed so exciting. You couldn’t hold back a grin.

In the upcoming months, you dutifully collected all of the trip’s pamphlets, filled out what seemed like a hundred forms, got your passport, and even filled out a personal essay for a scholarship. To your astonishment, your (now quite embarrassing to read) essay about how you loved learning the Japanese language, followed by you then detailing your dreams to live in Japan—dreams that you’ve had since you were ten, and you first started watching the few kinds of shonen anime scheduled on TV—was accepted, and you were one of the the lucky ones to receive the thousand-dollar scholarship.

After the school year was finally over, you finished packing for Japan and waited for the day to come. Never one to be late, you were the first to arrive at the airport terminal with your Sensei, and you stood there anxiously as the few other classmates arrived.

Now, hours later, and past all of the annoying TSA checkpoints and lines, you were finally on your plane ride. And, you were bored.

Your snack, a small can of barbeque chips, was long eaten, and you resisted the urge to take out your Nintendo DS and play some Pokemon. You didn’t want to seem like a dumb Otaku to the Japanese woman sitting next to you (and you could tell that she was cool, because she had a Marceline, from Adventure Time, case on her phone).

You glanced around at the other groups of students from around the United States heading to the organized trip, and your eyes fell on a pair of students a few rows ahead of you. He and his buddy were playing on their DS’s, and loudly talking about some game called Monster Hunter.

You clicked your tongue. To hell with it.

Digging through your carry-on bag filled with your games, a change of clothes (in case your huge luggage didn’t reach its destination on time, or at all), and a plastic case containing sunscreen, mosquito spray, and a hairbrush, you found your DS and clicked it open. It was yellow, with a smiling Pikachu stenciled on the top.

You amused yourself with playing, and before you knew it, a flight attendant was beside you, asking for which in-flight meal you’d like. Your options were either a curry and rice or a vegetable salad, both complete with miso soup and some chilled somen noodles.

In perfect Japanese (and trying not to focus on your too-high voice), you politely told the attendant that you would like the vegetable salad meal.

「 やさいのサラダを下さい。」

You turned back, and the woman sitting next to you was looking at you, surprised.

“You can speak Japanese?” she asked in Japanese.

“Yes, I’ve been studying it in school,” you replied back, in the same language.

She looked over you again, and you tried to keep your cool.

“I think it’s amazing that you can read that kanji, the kanji for vegetable,” she said, pointing to your menu. “It’s very complicated.”

You thanked her, and your conversation ended there. You felt a bit giddy, but also a bit awkward, because you really hadn’t known the kanji for vegetable, you just knew the word.

You kept playing your game, and after it became night, the cabin’s lights turned off, and everyone around you tried to go to sleep.

You closed your game, not wanting to annoy people with the light, and resigned yourself to being quiet. You looked at your Japanese teacher, sitting in the rows next to you, and she was already conked out and snoring on a head pillow.

You snorted, and wished that that was you. Based on your last flight experiences, you knew that you couldn’t ever fall asleep on a plane, no matter how tired you were. You weren’t sure if it was because of the plane’s constant movement, the cramped spaces in the economic class, your close proximity to other humans, or the fact that you weren’t in your own bed, but it never happened.

You turned on your phone, which you had placed on airplane mode, and booted up your fanfiction app. The woman next to you was attempting to sleep, so you dimmed your screen down to its lowest setting.

For a few hours, you read your pre-downloaded fanfictions you prepared beforehand. Most of them were Harry Potter fanfics, and the others were from various anime. You finished up a Draco/Harry one you’d been reading that morning. It was from your favorite author, penname Cheryl Dyson, so it had great writing and impeccable characterizations of your favorite pairing… I suppose in this situation, it would be correct to say, your OTP.

You thought of your cousin Rose, who lived in New York and chatted with your younger brother often, and her same interest in the homosexual wizard fanfictions. Though, she preferred to be reading Luna/Ginny fanfictions, which you thought was silly. Hermione/Pansy was obviously the most superior female slash ship— what with them being foils of each other and bitter enemies and etc., etc.

Perhaps, you had a thing for the enemies-to-friends-to-lovers couples. You couldn’t deny that.

You relaxed in your uncomfortably-hard chair. You felt your binder shift, and you pulled it down. You belatedly realized that you’d had your binder on for the last seven hours, and would have it on for another five more, at the very least. That wasn’t healthy.

You frowned. Now, while everyone was sleeping, would be the best time to take off your binder and let your chest rest for a while, but there really was no inconspicuous way to just pull it off. You tried rearranging your blanket to cover your chest, and fumbled with your binder for a while before giving up.

Your chest would be hurting for a while, but you were too afraid to get up to the bathrooms and take off your binder, so it would have to stay on.

Ah, the things you do to pass as male.

You readjusted your shades and kept reading.

\--------------------

The lights came back on just as you were ready to fall asleep, and everyone started to wake up and chat again. Noise filled the plane, and you opened your crusty eyes and held back a snarl.

According to the clock on your phone, it had been nearly twenty-four hours since you’ve last slept, and you were unbelievably tired. Thankfully, your days of blissfully staying up until five am and playing video games and then waking up at two in the afternoon had accustomed you to long periods of ignoring your fatigue, so you just held yourself together.

The plane ride ended after another two hours. You were about ready to collapse, and you followed your chipper teacher and classmates to the baggage claim. Thankfully, everyone’s bag had arrived, and you snatched up your luggage, which you had personalized with My Little Pony Rainbow Dash duct tape.

Your small group headed out and onto a bus with a few other groups of students. They were loud, and talked about idiotic things, and your gay, trans ass continued to read fanfiction and endure the pressure of your binder.

The bus went through narrow, winding, crowded streets. Other cars actually stopped to let you all by, due to the roads being too thin for both vehicles to pass. It was a little bit of a culture shock.

You all finally came to your hotel. As you were the only designated-female-at-birth student in your group, you parted from the cisgender boys and followed your Sensei to the “girl’s” rooms.

After a day of not showering, and being in the same, gross clothes, you smelled awful and your hair looked like a greasy mess. You were looking forward to a nice, long shower.

However, you saw your Sensei talking to the hotel staff, and she came to inform you that your group had arrived too late to use the baths, because the water only ran from eight am to ten pm.

“They don’t let people bathe all day?” you asked your Sensei incredulously.

“Yeah, that’s typical of hotels in Japan,” she replied. “That’s too bad for us, but oh well...”

Holding back your anger, you bid her good-night and headed to your hotel room… which, turned out, to be the smallest room you’ve ever seen. It was barely wide enough to hold a small bed, a desk, and a lamp.

Again, you just calmed yourself down and fell into bed, setting your alarm.

Your teacher had informed everyone that their morning activities started early, and breakfast was at seven am, which left you with… fucking, four hours of sleep. Fantastic.

You kicked off your shoes and didn’t bother to change into your pajamas, instead just kicking off your jeans and sleeping in your boxers. You threw your binder on the floor.

\--------------------

You were woken up at five in the god-damn morning by students running past your door and laughing. You ground your teeth, and unsuccessfully tried to go back to sleep, but, oh yay. Here they were again, chatting obnoxiously loud in the hallways.

You swore in your head, and you were in the mood to just open your door and shout at them to be quiet, because fuck, you hated  _ morning _ people, when you heard a low voice. A boy’s voice.

You put on your dirty jeans again, and then you slowly opened your door.

A group of teenagers, people you knew weren’t from Texas by their accents, were sitting near the bathrooms.

“Oh,” you remembered. The showers must be finally on. Thank fucking God.

Ignoring your need for sleep, you headed out with a change of clothes and a towel.

The girls and boys looked at you when you came up to them.

You asked them, in your scratchy, tired voice, if they were in line for the showers.

A girl said that they were, and you replied, “cool,” and sat down. 

The boy, however, wouldn’t stop looking at you.

“Hey, dude, what are you doing over here, in the girl’s rooms?” the boy asked.

You sized him up. Black hair, thin-rimmed square glasses, blue eyes, a shirt from the Big Bang Theory that said “BAZINGA!” in big, red letters, and a quite nice, soft-looking face. He looked Asian, possibly biracial?

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same?” you replied, deepening your voice a few notches and raising one of your eyebrows.

He was about to reply, but one of the girls beside him cut him off with a giggle.

“John’s gay! We don’t have to worry about that,” she laughed, and a few other girls joined in with her.

John looked embarrassed, but interestingly to you, didn’t start denying anything. You held back from getting any hope, because you already knew from past experiences that few gay guys wanted guys like  _ you _ . 

You managed to dodge his question when their teacher came over and chastised John for being in the “wrong” section, and John jumped up and apologized. He went back with their teacher, and he glanced once back at you and met your eyes (well, shades).

You felt something stir in your chest, but you extinguished it and focused on the group of girls. After a minute, another group of girls emerged from the showers, hair dripping wet, and we made our way inside.

To your bewilderment, there didn’t seem to be any normal showers in the large bathroom. From the shocked expressions of the girls beside you, they seemed to be unaware of this as well.

Instead, there were just stools with showerheads and soap beside them. A large bathtub laid in the corner of the room, but it went untouched by all of the women there.

“I’m keeping my towel on!” A blonde girl told everyone. Another two girls echoed her statements, and seeing that everyone else was holding up their towels, you did the same.

You sat down and fumbled with the showerhead, eventually figuring out how to turn the water from hot to cold. With your short hair, you were the first one to get finished bathing, and you quickly dried off and dressed yourself in the adjacent room.

All clean, and now feeling a lot better, you headed to the bathrooms to brush your teeth. The girl there doing her makeup ignored you, and you ignored her back.

With nothing else to do but wait, you doodled in your notebook back in your room and played around on your phone until it turned seven. You headed to the cafeteria, which was in another building far across yours, and brought all the things you needed for the day: your wallet, passport, and key card for your room. You lathered yourself in two coats of sunscreen before stepping out, knowing your white skin would burn like bacon in the heat.

\--------------------

With some walking around, you found the cafeteria. You seemed to be the only person of your school group there, which made you quite anxious. You looked all around for your Sensei, but failing to find her, just loaded up a plate of food and sat down by yourself.

You had finished eating, and now was sipping on the hotel’s delicious peach juice, when your teacher and the other boys came into the cafeteria and sat around you. You breathed out a sigh of relief at their presence.

“Are you eating natto, Sensei?” one of your classmates asked. You looked at your teacher’s plate, where she was mixing the foul-smelling stringy beans with some sauce. Also on her plate was a portion of rice and dried, pickled plums.

She saw me staring, and offered me to try one of the plums. You took it and nibbled a small bite out of it, and it was so disgusting that you gagged and put it back down on your plate.

Your teacher laughed at your expression, and you politely told her that it tasted weird. She seemed to understand.

Your classmates then had an argument with your Sensei about how she could eat natto, with her emphasizing its healthiness for your body, and you tuned out to their talk.

Looking around the cafeteria absentmindedly, you saw the same group of girls from that morning, and, lo and behold, there was John sitting with them. They all were laughing together, and you felt a pang of jealousy and looked away.

All of your group finished eating and headed outside. You saw lots of bugs on the ground and heard the Japanese crows cawing in the air, and you all asked your teacher what the words were for all of those animals.

That day, you visited a few temples. You bought a fortune for a few dollars, which turned out to be just a regular-lucky fortune, nothing special, and you grinned when hearing how your classmate whined about getting an awful fortune. Per your teacher’s instructions, he tied it to a fence with others to get rid of the bad luck, and you kept your fortune in your wallet.

Your group went sightseeing at a marketplace in front of another huge temple. You saw a festival-themed Naruto phone charm, and because Dave was watching Naruto, you bought it for him. You also found a small anime goods shop in Harajuku, and you bought a few trinkets, knowing to save your money for tomorrow… when your group would go to  _ Akihabara _ , the anime capital of the world.

You were so excited that you could squeal.

A few boys went off and got themselves lost, but you always stayed with your Sensei, because you were a good student (and because you really weren’t friends with anyone else on this trip). The boys got chewed out later, but you didn’t care.

In the evening, shortly before your group was meant to go back to the hotel, your group found another group and stayed with them. You all were in front of a busy record shop, which had scenes of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure playing on wide TV-screens in the windows. You knew that Dave liked Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure as well, and you thought that he would kill to be here, but you would just have to tell him on your way back to the hotel.

A girl from the other group brought up the topic of Filthy Frank, a Youtuber, to a boy from your group, and they made jokes and memed together with phrases and quotes you didn’t recognize. This piqued your curiosity.

You asked who Filthy Frank was, and the girl laughed. The boy from your school told you not to look him up— he “wasn’t that cool,” and you would “regret it.”

You didn’t say anything, but on the bus ride home, with a woman’s baby loudly crying behind you, you texted Dave a picture of the TVs playing Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure.

 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering timeausTestified [TT] --

TG: fucking sweet

TT: I know. I bet you wish you were here, surrounded by all of these animes.

TG: ouch. way to rub it in

TT: It’s not my fault that you decided to take Spanish like an awful child. I told 

you not to. I warned you, dogg.

TG: oh shut up already about that im taking japanese next year lay off

TT: Good. I’m glad you’ve started to listen to your wise older brother.

TG: oh ha ha

TT: Which reminds me, some people in my group were talking about someone 

called Filthy Frank. Do you know who he is?

TG: …

TG: you don’t know who filthy frank is

TG: thats honestly one of the saddest things ive heard

TG: id expect jade or even rose to not know about him

TG: but you

TT: I don’t watch YouTube as often as you do. You know this.

TG: hes a goddamn legend

TG: fuck ill send you some of his videos

TG: you need to motherfuckin educate yourself

TT: Oh, don’t pause your watching of Pewdiepie’s Minecraft Let’s Play episode number ninety-seven on my account. I can look him up on my own.

TG: stfu

TG: and first of all pewdiepie doesnt even play minecraft. thats achievement hunter

TG: and im watching five nights at freddys thank you very much

TT: Who’s playthrough?

TG: who do you fucking think

TG: markipliers

TT: I don’t understand your appeal of him.

TG: stfu dont make fun of markiplier

TT: He’s not even that cute.

TG: dick

TT: Loser.

TG: anyway here are some of filthy franks best videos 

TG: watch them with headphones on they can get a bit

TT: Graphic?

TG: weird

TT: Thanks lil’ bro. Talk to you tomorrow.

TG: night

TT: Night.

\-- timeausTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]  --

 

When you got back to the hotel, you took off your shoes to find some blisters forming from all the walking you’ve done. You hissed and put bandages over the worst of them. Packing away the things you bought that day, you changed into your Dragon Ball Z t-shirt and ironic Angry Birds pajama pants and fell asleep.

\--------------------

The next day you arrived a little later to breakfast, and you were able to sit with your classmates. You ate some teriyaki meatballs and they were so delicious that you went back to get more.

That day, your group went to a museum and learned about the history of ancient Japan. You were able to answer one of your tour guide’s questions, and she commented on how smart you were, which brought you into a much better mood.

Later, in a train station, you talked with your friendliest classmate about a video game you’ve both played: Fire Emblem: Awakening. He remarked about his love for Lucina and you responded with your affection towards Anna, and then he tried to convince you that some characters you hated (but he liked) were actually good, and you argued with him. It was fun.

Your teacher took your group to a few more temples, but you all were anime nerds, so you all kept waiting for Akihabara, the last visit of the day. We pestered Sensei with questions about when we were going to Akihabara, and she seemed a bit miffed, but we finally headed there.

When brought there, your group was vibrating with excitement. You peeked over the crowds into the sea of anime merchandise, and after your Sensei told you all that you had two hours to shop, and after then, you all must meet  _ here _ , you all split up.

You bought a tiny K-ON! figurine of your favorite girl (Tsumugi), and then purchased a figure of Kaito, your favorite Vocaloid (besides Miku) on a whim. Finally, you turned your attention to finding figurines of your favorite character of all time:

Nagisa Kaworu from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

With your searching, you located and bought five separate figurines of him. You couldn’t hold back your smiling like a lunatic, because—fuck! Everything was so cheap!

Ten dollars for a figurine? You stared at the price tags and thought of when you browsed online, and simple anime figurines could go upwards of a hundred dollars.

(You later found the same Kaito figure that you had bought there in the United States. It was fifty dollars, five times the amount you bought yours at, and you were filled with rage.)

You met up with a few of your classmates, and feeling hungry, you all found a small, hole-in-the-wall ramen restaurant to eat at. You ate yours with a raw egg on top, which tasted  _ delicious. _ Though, if you had to be honest, you missed the flavors of the cheap packages of ramen you ate at home.

The two hours passed unbearingly fast, and you headed back to the group’s meeting point. You all were taking the trains home, and so you resigned yourself to sit on the ground and loudly open your figurines from their cases. There was no way that all of your purchases could be carried home in a crowded train.

However, after you finished gathering up your garbage, and you all were set to go to the hotel, you felt another bit of culture shock when finding that there were no public trash cans in Tokyo.

“Why aren’t there any trash cans anywhere? I don’t think I’ve seen one all day,” you asked your teacher.

“Yeah, I suppose there aren’t any… trash cans tend to bring in animals, and they get too full and so trash can collect on the ground, so people usually just carry their trash around,” your teacher explained.

You groaned inwardly.

The ride back home was painful. Both because of your two heavy bags of merch and trash, and because you had to really try not to bump people with your bags. You felt like dying.

\--------------------

You woke up the next day, again, to students being loud on your hotel floor. You went out and waited for the showers again.

While waiting, John and some of the girls you’ve seen from his group (and some you haven’t) came next to you. They held Pokemon plushies, pillows, and blankets in their hands, and you looked at them enviously.

“We went to the Pokemon Museum yesterday. It was so fun!” one of the girls told you.

“It sounded fun,” you replied, a bit salty.

John was laying on his Wailord Pillow. He smiled at you, and then started talking.

“Where did your group go yesterday?”

“Akihabara,” you answered.

John whistled, and two girls exclaimed about how lucky your group was.

“What did you get there? Was it awesome?” John asked.

“Hella awesome,” you smirked. “I bought so many figurines that I could barely bring them home.”

“How many?” he asked.

“Seven in total,” you bragged.

“Fucking sweet. Good for you, dude,” he smiled. “I’m John.”

“Dirk,” you introduced yourself back.

You were reminded again of how nice and handsome he was, and your stomach did its flipping thing. 

Girls came from the bathroom, and you joined with the other group girls to go in there as well.

You didn’t make it far, and started when a wrist grabbed yours from behind.

“Whoa, what are you doing? You can’t go in there, dude!” John shouted.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, feeling so awkward you couldn’t handle it.

“Relax, John, she’s a girl,” one of his friends said.

She was trying to be helpful, but your stomach dropped and your face paled nonetheless. As you expected, John’s expression changed into something you couldn’t identify, and that humiliated you.

You pulled away from his grasp and headed into the showers.

You felt like crying.

\--------------------

Your group took a shinkansen, or bullet train, to Kyoto, leaving the hotel (and presumably John) behind. You weren’t sure to be happy or glad about this change.

During the train ride, you were paired up to sit next to the annoying, rude classmate that nobody liked, and you tried not to grimace as he pulled out his laptop and started watching some shitty anime, wherein the anime girls’ boobs bounced around like they refused to follow physics.

You took out your PS Vita and started playing some Project Diva, a frustrating-yet-fun Hatsune Miku-themed rhythm game that you were quite good at.

You bought a bento lunch from the trolley lady who came by. It came with a packet of some unfamiliar spices, which you sprinkled on your rice, and it tasted great. You were also gradually learning how to better use chopsticks.

After two hours on the bullet train, your group took another train, and then two buses, to get to your group’s assigned high school. You were to stay there for a week and experience some Japanese classes, and also stay with a host family.

Nervous, you followed the group into the school, where you all were given a nice tour. You waved at the Japanese students who perked up as you passed by their classrooms, and they waved back and called out hello. You also caught a few of them call you all “cute.”

Your school seemed not to be the only school designated for this high school, as you passed another group of Americans in the halls, and,  _ fuck _ .

There was John.

Hiding behind the tallest boy in your group, you avoided looking at him.

Your group headed to the school’s auditorium. You all were presenting a Powerpoint on Texas to give some information of your home state to the students there, and your slides were first.

You spoke in Japanese, only stumbling once, while your anxiety roared inside you like a hurricane and made you almost unable to breathe. After your three slides covering the Texan weather and geography were over, you sat down and relief rushed you as everyone’s attention turned to another classmate of yours.

You observed your classmates’ presentations, noting their grammatical errors and horrible pronunciation attempts, and then when you all were done, your Sensei presented a gift to the high school principal from your school, which he accepted gracefully.

Your group sat down in the gym, and you saw John again. He was in the front row, and his school was standing up, its larger group heading to the projector to tell everyone about their state: Washington.

You listened half-heartedly to their presentation as your stomach grumbled for lunch. When it was John’s turn, your mind betrayed your wishes and turned its full attention towards him.

He seemed alright at Japanese. He mispronounced some words, and also seemed flustered to be up there as you were, but he was less able to hide it.

Inexplicably, you found him looking at you. Without thinking, you gave him a nod and a thumbs up, and he seemed to remember the sentence that he had been struggling with, and he finished his part.

John then sat down. Another boy went up to deliver his facts, and John flashed you a thumbs up and a grin. You offered him a quick smile, and then pretended to focus on the presentation, while your eyes were on John the entire time.

He was wearing a less visually-and-culturally offensive shirt this time. It was black with the Star Wars logo and it was lined with pictures of Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Darth Vader, Han Solo, and of other characters you had no fucking clue what their names were. On his legs were dark green shorts, and on his feet were— oh, you can’t be serious— some sports anime socks.

You blew a breath out, and then realized that you weren’t one to judge, because on your feet were some Cardcaptor Sakura socks you had bought the day before.

John started jiggling his leg, and that started to bother you. He drummed his fingers, seeming bored, as his group’s project went on and on.

Your stomach growled again. You waited patiently for his group to finish presenting, and then the school principal told everyone to smile, as they were taking a picture of you foreign students with the whole Japanese student body.

John’s group rushed to sit down before the picture was taken, and to your horror—and a little bit of delight— he sat down right next to you and flashed a peace sign and smile at the camera. You stiffened, but managed to school your face into passiveness before the picture was taken.

John stood up beside you, and he offered you his hand.

Thinking that maybe he was treating you like a girl, you frowned and stood up by yourself.

“Your presentation was really interesting!” John told you, shyly dropping his hand.

“Thanks. Yours too,” you replied.

“It’s kinda crazy that we’re like, two groups from separate parts of the country. What is Texas like?” John continued on.

You saw your Sensei start to bring your group together in preparations to get lunch, and so you left John’s side.

“Didn’t you  _ just _ watch our presentation?” you called back to him.

“Fair enough,” John laughed, going to his own group.

\--------------------

Right after lunch, your group headed into a classroom to let everyone meet up with their host family students.

With mine being Satoka, the only girl, you found her quickly. She had a ponytail, a friendship bracelet on her wrist, and she was wearing socks with cherries on them.

We talked semi-awkwardly in Japanese together, sharing our hobbies and interests, and you found out that she was on the badminton team, just as you were on the tennis team at your high school.

The Japanese high school students eventually had to go back to class, and your group waited in an empty classroom, playing card games and drinking Japanese iced tea, until the school day was over. 

You met with Satoka after school. She told you that she had badminton practice, so she showed you to her team, and they changed while asking you many questions. A lot of the girls were fans of Taylor Swift, and they asked you what bands you liked, which you tried to come up with answers for. You settled on telling them that you liked Kyary Pamyuu Pamyuu. They invited you to sit and watch them practice, and you felt sympathy for them when their coach directed them through tons of drills and conditioning before they all could start playing games.

You saw that Satoka was quite good. She seemed like a beast, and beat most of her classmates, but when she came over to talk to you, the first words out of her mouth were that she was incredibly tired.

When badminton practice was over, you and Satoka headed outside. She called her mother, Ayumi, and she picked us up in a small smart car.

Again, you learned something new about Japan when you saw that the driver’s side was located on the right, and not on the left, as it was in America. Satoka’s mother had pretty good English, which she told you was due to her living in Canada for a few years, and she told you to ask her if there were any problems. You nodded, and they turned up the radio and let it play some American music.

\--------------------

Satoka’s home was chock-full of Disney knicknacks. You saw characters from Mickey Mouse, Tangled, and Frozen, but their family seemed to really love Lilo and Stitch the most, as there were tiny plastic figurines of Stitch on the hallway banister, on the kitchen counter, and even one in the bathroom.

The family treated you to a huge dinner, and Satoka seemed to just eat and eat, and they turned on the family TV to watch some Fairy Tail. Fairy Tail wasn’t an anime you really liked—in fact, you’ve read a few essays about it on and its blatant sexism and bland storyline— but since Satoka and a few of your friends back home seemed to like it, you reserved your judgements and watched it until… you couldn’t bare it. You had to tell Rose about this.

 

\-- timeausTestified [TT] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT2] --

TT: Rose, holy fuck.

TT: I need someone to talk to, because I’m nearly at the edge of a breakdown

caused by this awful, poor excuse for an anime, and I need to have an honest, 

intelligent, and feminist discussion about this.

TT: Rose. Are you there?

TT2: What an intriguing situation you must be in, Strider.

TT2: How can I lend you my painstaking focus and undying attention into your 

sick “animes,” and your plights considering them.

TT: Rose, this is serious.

TT2: Wait, shouldn’t you be talking to Dave about this? He’s watched more anime than I have.

TT: You haven’t watched any anime.

TT2: Exactly my point.

TT: No, I need to talk to you, and you specifically.

TT: He’s not as big of a feminist as I am.

TT2: Of course. He’s still learning.

TT: And I need to talk with someone that will understand my feelings about women being treated like nothing but sex objects in popular culture.

TT2: Oh, wow. If that’s the case, then, I would love to have the pleasure to talk with you about such concerns.

TT: Sweet.

TT: Anyway, have you heard of an anime called Fairy Tail?

TT2: No, I can’t say that I have.

TT: It’s sorta like One Piece.

TT2: The one with the pirates?

TT: Yes, that one.

TT: I’m being forced to watch it with my host family, and yet I can’t help but cringe at how bad it is.

TT: I know that the show is notorious for not letting its female characters fight, and leaving the male ones to save them, therefore disempowering them in the process.

TT2: Ah, yes. The “damsel in distress” trope.

TT: Precisely.

TT: However, it seems that later in the series, when the strongest girl has to “power up” to defeat a much more stronger, evil boss, she has to turn into a second form that’s basically shows her entire chest and stomach.

TT2: Yikes.

TT: She also grew wings?? I don’t understand all of what’s going on, because this is the original run and there’s no subtitles, but there’s little reason why this should make sense.

TT: I swear, whatever this red-haired character does, whatever form and armor she takes, whatever monster she’s punching, the focus always seems to be on her large chest. Like that’s her most defining, important feature.

TT: That’s just humiliating.

TT: I get that anime has to pander to its audiences, and that most male anime fans will spend loads of money on content they find titillating, but this is just godawful.

TT: They put such ditzy, sexualized depictions of women in children’s anime for adults to jerk off with, but try finding a gay, lesbian, or god forbid, transgender character in an anime.

TT: That’s nearly fucking impossible.

TT2: I can tell that you’re quite passionate about this.

TT: Of course I am. Anime is my life.

TT: … Forget I said that unironically.

TT2: My lips are forevermore sealed, dear cousin. 

TT: But yeah, I am so mad.

TT: I can’t wait to be done watching this anime. I’ve had to endure watching five episodes of it already.

TT: Sorry to bother you about this.

TT2: No, it was no bother at all. In fact, the subject of sexism and hypersexualization of women in anime is quite interesting.

TT2: I might have do some more research.

TT: Cool, you do that.

TT: Talk to you later.

\-- timeausTestified [TT] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  --

 

Thankfully, Satoka seemed to catch up to the latest episode of Fairy Tail in another few episodes, and so her mother switched the TV to the news.

“You should take a bath, now,” Satoka’s mother told you, and you agreed and went upstairs to grab your clothes. You knew about how families in Japan shared their bath water (i.e. bathed one after each other with the same water), and your teacher had even explained to everyone about how your host families would likely invite you to bathe first, since then you can get the cleanest water, and it could circumvent some of that culture shock, so you understood.

Throwing your binder off, you let your chest breathe, and you picked some silly t-shirt and shorts to wear for the night. In the bathroom, you washed yourself off first and shampooed your hair and body before hopping into the tub, which was already full of hot, steamy water. It seemed to be the perfect temperature, and its temperature seemed to be computerized, since it failed to cool down.

You laid in the tub for much longer than your teacher had warned you about, but fuck, this was the shit. You wanted a bathtub like this.

Japanese bathtubs, compared to American ones, were less long and more deep, which meant that you could submerge your entire body inside it. That was a blessing to you, because as a tall boy, taking baths at home was quite uncomfortable with your longe limbs.

You got out before you became sleepy, and went upstairs to the room that the family had provided to you.

You were getting ready for bed, and picking our your clothes for tomorrow, when Satoka came in the door and sat down at the chair in front of your bed.

She talked with you about many nonsensical things, with you having to occasionally pull up the dictionary app on your phone when she said a word you didn’t recognize, and you two talked about the boys you liked.

“I don’t like super macho boys,” she said.

“Me neither,” you answered.

“I like kind… bright… and smart boys. How about you?” she asked.

“I like kinda… nerdy boys. With dark hair and glasses,” you replied. You hadn’t thought of John until that moment, but right after saying that, he popped into your head and wouldn’t go away.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked you.

“No, I don’t. I want one, though,” you said.

“Me too,” she laughed.

After giggling with you a little more, she told you that she had a few hours of studying still to do that night, and she excused herself.

You turned off the lights and flopped into bed. 

\--------------------

Your group began to go to different Japanese classes the next day. Everyone was assigned to “shadow” a student to every new class, and your sheet said that you would be going to the Chemistry, Health, Japanese Literature, and History classes. 

You were stared at unabashedly as you travelled down the halls with your shadowed student. Some students said hello, and again, you heard people call you “cute” (you later learned that it wasn’t meant to be taken literally/personally; Japanese students tend to call every kind of foreigner cute). You would’ve been flattered, but honestly the attention made your anxiety flare up, and you cursed your mental illnesses.

At each of your classes, you noticed tons of girls had Disney-themed pencil pouches, notebooks, pencils, stamps, or backpacks. You figured that that was popular or trendy to do, but in America, if a student came in with lots of Disney merch, they’d be seen as childish. That might be a cultural difference, then.

In your last class for the day, history, you were surprised to find that the class was currently studying American history. You snapped a picture of their textbook, which had the names of Thomas Jefferson, George Washington, and Thomas Paine, and it also had a section on France’s involvement in the Revolutionary War. You read further, and chuckled when there was an entire section of the page that just read, in full English:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, and that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

When the day was over, Satoka met up with you and told you that the tennis team wanted to play with you after school. She went to her badminton practice, and you put on more sunscreen and refilled your bottle of water before you headed outside to the tennis courts.

There, four girls (the number exactly perfect for a double’s game) waited. You talked with them a bit, and you all snapped a selfie together, before you started practicing.

And, you soon learned, you were awful at tennis compared to them. Maybe it was because the weather was almost an astounding 90 degrees fahrenheit/ 32 degrees celsius, and it was more humid than, as Dave would say, “God’s ballsack,” but you couldn’t seem to stop drinking water and breathing so heavily you couldn’t think (part of that was probably the binder’s fault, but were you going to take it off now? Hell no.).

You ran out of your entire bottle of water quickly, and you followed one of the girls to refill it. You saw that they had barely touched their water bottles.

You lost two games to them and barely won one, and after three more hours of practice, you said good-bye to them as Satoka came to pick you up.

For dinner, Satoka and her mother taught you how to make homemade Takoyaki, which were basically octopus-filled bread balls, with a metal pan covered in huge holes for the batter, and they were yummy. You also got to taste some Takoyaki filled with squid and then vegetables, but you preferred the octopus kind.

\--------------------

The only classes you had the next day were P.E and Math.

You never were a big fan of P.E., for multiple reasons (the biggest was its tendency to split up students boys and girls, and that let the boys side usually demean the female group for being weaker) so P.E. seemed to be the worst.

Indeed, and in sweltering, humid temperatures again, all of your classmates headed outside to play some Japanese version of dodgeball. John’s group was also there, and you felt weird in your gym shorts and thin t-shirt.

Luckily, the gym teacher didn’t assign a boy’s and girl’s team, but instead just split the group in half. Therein, everyone took colored belts and attempted to throw or tag people on the other team with dodgeballs.

You stood there awkwardly in your orange belt, sweat dripping down your face, and headed away from the commotion in hopes not to get out. Your hopes were soon dashed when a ball was pressed to your side, and there was John, out of breath and standing in a blue belt.

You looked him with disinterest, making no attempt to get away.

“You’re out,” John told you, grinning.

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” you shot back.

John’s smile faltered.

“Oh… well then… see ya,” John said, going back to tagging people.

You stood there for a second, and then sat down at the edge of the square, where other “out” people were sitting.

The round was soon over, with the blue team winning, and the teacher split everyone up again. This time, both you and John were on the blue team, and he headed towards you.

“Aren’t you going to play?” John asked.

You uncrossed your arms and shrugged.

One of your classmates tried to hit John with a ball, but he dodged it and sent another his way.

“Hey Dirk… do you not like P.E.?” John asked you again, picking up another ball from the ground.

“Not really,” you agreed.

John hummed.

You were struck from behind with a ball, and you turned around to see a member of the orange team smiling at you, so you made your way again to the edges of the field.

“Wait, how are you out already, dude? I mean, um, miss-”

“‘Dude’ is fine,” you cut John off, feeling a headache coming on.

John kept playing the game vigorously, but even he was finally tagged out, and he went over to sit by you again.

You sat there in silence, wishing you could pull out your phone. John seemed lost in thought.

The two teams continued to play in front of you. You watched your classmates flirt with the girls, and saw that one of your classmates had split from the game to grab a selfie with two more girls on the side of the field.

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. You turned to face John, who was gnawing at his lip.

“So… uh, if I can ask you… what  _ are  _ you?” he asked.

You froze, blinking at him. You couldn’t help but feel like grade-A shit by his question, even if your rational brain could understand that he meant no harm, because wow, you’re reminded again that people don’t see you as a guy. You’re not a “real guy.”

“Umm…” you stuttered, tripping over your tongue. “I’m a guy.”

“Really?” John asked, seeming curious.

“Yeah, just a… transgender guy,” you explained.

“Transgender like... Caitlyn Jenner transgender?” he asked.

“Yeah, like that,” you replied, grimacing inwardly at being reminded that Caitlyn Jenner, despite her homophobia and conservative values, was the current face of the transgender community. Why couldn’t it have been Laverne Cox? Chaz Bono?

“That’s interesting. I’ve never met a transgender person before,” John told you.

You couldn’t do anything but lay your head on your knees and nod.

“How long have you known? Do you mind me asking?” John asked.

You were, frankly, a little tired of this conversation, but to humor him, you answered:

“Since I was eight.”

“Wow! That’s really young!” John yelled, attracting the attention of some Japanese students around us.

You blushed and grunted a reply.

“Are you gonna go on hormones?” John asked.

You buried your face in your shorts, not wanting this talk to continue on.

“Yeah,” you muttered.

“That’s cool,” John said.

You were saved by the orange team winning, and the gym teacher invited everyone to stand up. Your Sensei appeared out of nowhere with a camera, and everyone huddled together to take a group picture.

You decided to just flash a regular peace sign, but then some Japanese students started chanting “Nico Nico Nii,” the phrase from that video game Love Live, and soon they were ushering everyone to make the Nico pose, which is basically just making two “rock on” hand gestures.

John seemed to get way into the Nico Nico Nii hype, and he started repeating it with the Japanese students.

“Are you even a fan of Love Live?” you couldn’t help but ask him.

“No,” John looked confused. “Is that an anime?”

Your teacher took the photo while you were talking mid-sentence with John.

\--------------------

Your group returned back to the empty classroom to cool down and drink tea before your next classes. You lamented the lack of Air Conditioning in Japanese schools, which had been built before such technology was widespread, as you fanned your face repeatedly with a small hand fan the high school provided you.

You were brought to a freshman-level math class, and with your luck, John had been assigned there as well. He was laughing with his shadow student when you stepped in the door, and he waved at you.

The teacher spontaneously called both you and John up to introduce yourselves in front of the class, which was mortifying, because you ended up messing up your words and repeating yourself. You sat back down, and were given a paper of problems.

After a minute of listening to the teacher lecture, you suddenly realized that these problems were easy, and you could just solve them by using the Pythagorean Theorem, or with: x=(b±√b2−4ac)/2a. With that theorem, you breezed through the paper’s ten questions and sat back in your chair.

John sat a row behind you, and when he saw that you were finished, he leaned up towards you.

“Whoa, you’re done already? How do you even know what to do?” John asked.

“It’s simple math, really. You just need to apply the Pythagorean Equation to these problems,” you answered.

“What?” John asked.

You sighed and turned back in your chair, clicking your pen. You scribbled the formula on John’s paper and took the liberty of explaining to him how to plug in the numbers to solve the questions.

“Oh, I think I remember this… thanks, man,” John replied.

You swiveled to the front again and began drawing some anime girls on the margins of your paper. However, John began to laugh at something under his breath.

“What?” you asked, facing back around.

“I just think it’s funny that you’re better at Math than me. Aren’t guys’ brains supposed to be better at Math, anyway?”

John stopped talking at your piercing glare, which you directed to him over the rim of your shades. He looked like he felt a bit guilty after that.

The teacher came around after five minutes to look at everyone’s progress, and he saw that you were done.

“What does this mean?” the teacher asked, looking to where you had scribbled and underlined the phrase “Pythagorean Theorem” on your worksheet.

“It’s the English way to say, um…” you gestured to the kanji on the board that you couldn’t read.

「三平方の定理か？」he asked.

「 はい、そうです。」you replied.

“How do you pronounce this?” the teacher asked.

Slowly, and enunciating the words “Pythagorean Theorem” the best you could, you repeated it for the teacher three times. He tried to say the words, but failed with a laugh. After that, the math class went on.

\--------------------

At the end of the day, and even when some classes were still in session, Satoka and some of her friends invited you to a water balloon fight. You all went on a veranda on the roof and began throwing multi-colored water balloons at each other, but they seemed to never pop. Instead, they just bounced off the ground, and another girl picked it up to throw it again.

You were having intense fun, and half-heartedly throwing the balloons around. A girl threw two of them at you, which finally popped, and they drenched you in cold water.

All of the girls around you suddenly stopped, looking shocked and guilty, but honestly, the cold water was a bit refreshing in the heat. Plus, you’d quickly dry off in the sun, so you tried to assure them that you were fine and they did nothing wrong. They still looked quite regretful, though, no matter what you said.

One of their teachers came out and called your group out for having a water balloon fight, and we all were rushed inside. I headed back to my classmates, who were mingling with the Washington kids, and it took a few minutes for them to notice that my clothes were wet.

“Why happened?” one of my classmates asked.

“I was in a water balloon fight on the roof,” you answered, grinning proudly.

Your classmates didn’t seem to believe you, so you just shrugged and continued playing on your phone.

Soon, your Sensei came in and saw that you were drenched, and she asked worriedly what had happened. You told her about the water balloon fight, and she shook her head but smiled at you.

You had just gotten bored of your phone when you decided to draw on the chalkboard with the little pieces of chalk lining on the board’s edge. You weren’t the best artist, but you could draw some simple anime girls and guys. After doodling for a bit, you whipped out your phone and used some of your saved anime pictures as reference to draw some actual characters.

You had just finished drawing America from Axis Powers: Hetalia (yes, a famously cringey anime, you knew that, but when you were in junior high, you unironically loved it and shipped a lot of its pairings) when John walked up beside you.

“Wow, you’re a pretty good artist!” John said. “I can’t draw like that.”

“Thank you. It’s one of my finest skills,” you smiled, sketching another head shape.

“Oh, oh! You should draw me,” John insisted with a grin.

“I’m not very good at drawing real-life people,” you replied, frowning.

“You can just draw me in anime style!” John said.

You shrugged and began drawing him, looking at him watch you draw to get some reference. His hair was messy and he was wearing a nice white shirt, and you tried to detail his face as much as I could.

Before it got too detailed that it started looking like crap, you stopped drawing and presented your art to John.

“Ta-da,” you announced, lazily waving your arms.

“Wow! It looks just like me!” John shouted, taking a picture of your drawing with his basic Android phone.

Once he pocketed his phone, John took a piece of chalk and told you to stand still.

“Why?” you asked.

“I’m gonna draw you,” John answered.

“Oh.”

You kept your face impassive as he glanced back and forth from you, to the chalkboard, to your drawing him, and you realized smugly that he was trying to copy your drawing of him.

He was failing badly, but it was cute. His lines were too squiggly, and your triangle shades were off-center on your face, but it was a good drawing of you.

You snapped a picture of his drawing of you, planning to send it to Dave, and maybe even Rose, later, when he saw your phone case.

“Whoa, Dirk! You like Evangelion?!” John exclaimed.

“Yeah,” you replied. “It’s my favorite anime.”

“Oh my god,” John said. “Mine, too!”

John gestured for you to show him your phone, which had an image of Kaworu and Shinji, your favorite couple of the series, on it in a semi-embrace.

“Did you get this online?” John asked, flipping my phone around.

“Yeah,” you answered.

“That’s awesome,” John replied, giving you your phone back.

John’s teacher came in the room and ushered their group outside, and John called out a good-bye to you before he left.

You sat with the other boys until Satoka came to get you.

\--------------------

You slowly started warming up to your host family, and instead of speaking in polite Japanese like you’ve been taught to for years, you experimented with using casual Japanese like they did. They seemed to get excited when you did that.

That night, your host mother ordered pizza on the phone, and she put on a show that she told me she learned English phrases from. It was a skit show that incorporated random English sentences into its storyline, and your host mother repeated the phrases beside you as you watched the entire episode unfold.

When the pizza arrived, you dug in with your host family. You were heading upstairs when you felt a pain in your stomach. You excused yourself to the bathroom, and there you realized that you were getting your period.

You really hated your body. Was this really the time, dude? Do you want me to suffer in this foreign country? I should be having the time of my life, god damn it.

You trudged up to your room and grabbed a pad. You took your bath first, and by that, you did nothing but use the showerhead to get clean, abandoning the bath altogether, because your teacher told you specifically that if you got your period, you couldn’t get in and dirty the water.

You went to bed.

\--------------------

The next day, you shadowed students taking Chinese Literature and Music. Then, your group was planned to go to a local electricity museum.

Chinese Literature was fun, but it had many rules for the order in where you read things, and while you could get the simple, easy rules off the bat, soon the teacher was introducing more complicated rules and you got lost. You went to music class with another student, and in there you listened to classical music and tried to describe your feelings about it in Japanese as best as you could. The teacher called on you once to tell of your answer, and you read it, feeling like an idiot, but she seemed to think your take on the music was interesting.

All of the American students were pulled out of class, and you all walked a few miles to the large building. On the way, you talked with some Japanese students about well-known Hatsune Miku songs, and they told you that Senbonzakura was a very famous one in Japan, which you didn’t know.

John hung back to talk with his friends, but when you all arrived to the museum and your teachers instructed you to pick partners, he attached himself to your side before you even got your pencil out to take notes.

The museum had exhibits on rocks and minerals, cell-phone wiring, and just electricity and power in general. They were labelled in both Japanese and English, which was quite convenient. John pulled you towards a mechanical exhibit where you could make a bit of electricity by rubbing some metals together in a plastic cage, and he then went with you to see the jewelry exhibit.

“These stones are so pretty…” John commented.

You looked at the shards of different shades of opals, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and malachites.

“D-do you know Steven Universe?” John asked you.

“Psh. Of course,” you said back, staring at a shiny piece of Peridot.

“Yeah, I thought so. But, I didn’t want to think you were just a CLOD, right?” John smirked, glancing to the Peridot stone you’d been admiring.

You didn’t say anything.

John repeated his joke, thinking that you misunderstood him, but really, you were just disappointed in him. 

“That’s a really shit joke,” you said to him. “Get good, dude.”

“Well, damn, sorry,” John stuck out his tongue at you. “I just thought you liked Peridot.”

“I do like Peridot,” you replied. “She’s just not my favorite.”

“Who’s your favorite?” John asked. “Wait, don’t tell me… it’s Pearl.”

You affixed him with a strange look.

“How did you know that?” you asked.

John laughed.

“You seem like somebody that would be a fan of her,” John said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped.

John stepped back and held out his hands. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, Dirk, chill out. It’s just… well… her fans seem to be… some… unique sort of people you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” you ground your teeth, actually offended. “Is Pearl a bad character? Do you think all of her fans are awful people? Because if you do, I’m about to get you so fucking educated on Pearl and her backstory and how it’s a real representation of… John are you fucking listening?”

John was playing with a model flip-phone in front of him.

“Nope, not really,” he said back.

“Asshole,” you mumbled under your breath, and then asked him a question: “Who’s  _ your _ favorite gem?”

“Hmmm….” John thought for a moment. “I’d say it’s a tie between Lapis and Amethyst.”

“And your least favorite Crystal Gem is….?”

“Pearl,” John grinned.

“... I’m going to fucking kill you,” you snarled.

John just laughed at you, and it took all of your willpower not to fucking punch him to the ground. You didn’t want to get kicked off your trip for violence. And what would Dave and Rose say? They’d make fun of you for weeks.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you said, breaking away from John.

He made to follow you, but you fast-walked down a flight of stairs and away from the group until you found some public bathrooms. You stood there, torn, for a few minutes, before you finally just pushed open the door to the women’s bathrooms and went inside.

You checked your pad. There was little blood, which meant that your period wasn’t quite here yet, and you probably had a few more hours before you got your cramps.

You made your way back to your Sensei, and she guided you back to the group, who was now in an arts exhibit. Ancient relics, captioned with their origins and the time periods they were from, lined the walls, but you just felt tired and sick and wanted to go home.

On the bus ride back, one of the Japanese girls sat beside you before John got on the bus, and you refused to meet his eyes as he walked past a little dejectedly.

You ignored John and talked in Japanese with the girl next to you. To your delight, she said that your Japanese sounded fluent. You also learned that she was a huge fan of Taylor Swift as well, and when a Taylor Swift came on the radio, she knew all of its lyrics by heart. You sang it with her, mostly only knowing the chorus, and she recited even more Taylor Swift lyrics when the song was over.

\--------------------

Your host mother, after you told her that your favorite Japanese food was Yakisoba, was kind enough to make some for dinner that night. It was so delicious that you had three bowlfuls, and your host mother told you with a laugh that she would put the leftover yakisoba in your bento lunch the next day.

You went to sleep, and with it finally being Saturday, you were able to sleep in a few hours more. Your stomach hurting eventually awoke you, though, and you sluggishly stepped downstairs to ask your host mother if she had any pain medication.

Your host mother wasn’t there, but your Satoka was. She was in her full school uniform again, and you confusedly asked if she was going to school. As she slipped on her shoes and readjusted her backpack, she told you sadly that Japanese students had a half-day of school each Saturday, which left you speechless. Your host mother appeared from her bedroom to drive Satoka to school. Before they left, you hurriedly asked her where the aspirin was, and she took some pills out of a cabinet and handed them to you.

You wished Satoka a good day at school, popped a few pills with a glass of milk, and then passed out on your bed.

\--------------------

It was afternoon when your host mother knocked on your door and asked if you were awake. You told her that you were, and she said that your group was planning to have a barbeque at a Japanese host family’s house, and that they had invited you to come with.

Your growling stomach told you that that was a great idea, and you didn’t feel your cramps (for the time being), so you told her you’d get ready. Putting on a fresh shirt and shorts, you brushed your hair to make it look spiffy and then you waited in the living room.

Your host mother looked surprised at how fast you got ready, and she laughed and began to drive you to another house in Kyoto.

You sat there, listening to a Japanese pop song you didn’t know, when your host mother turned down the radio. You turned your attention towards her.

“Did you know that Satoka wants to become a hair stylist?” she told you.

“Really?” you replied.

“She was really excited to get a host student for this trip, wanting to braid your hair and practice hair styling with you, but when she saw the picture of you, she was disappointed,” her mother said.

“Oh, wow,” you said, suddenly feeling horrible. Again, you felt bad for being born as a girl, because it seemed to make problems for you and other people wherever you went.

Satoka was so nice and funny, and she was so excited to get a girl to play with her hair, but instead she got you. That was honestly a bit depressing.

“She wants to study in England,” your host mother continued. “I tell her to go to college, but instead she wants to cut hair.”

“I suppose that’s her dream,” you commented, not wanting to take any sides.

“I guess,” your host mother sighed and then dropped the subject.

You were dropped off at a large house. There, you met Satoka and a few of your classmates. You looked around inconspicuously for John, but you couldn’t find him or his host student.

The Japanese students gave out fresh watermelon and soda to everyone. The student hosting the barbeque started grilling hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.

You and Satoka weren’t really included in any of the student’s situations, and so you two broke apart and went into the backyard. She whispered to you that she wasn’t friends with any of the other students, and she found a few of them very annoying. That made you snort.

Out-of-the-blue, Satoka gasped. The family’s pet cat had wandered outside, and it was a beautiful calico cat with orange and cream spots on its back.

You and Satoka approached it and pet it. It bit you a few times, but you endured that to just feel its soft fur and see its beautiful cat face.

“What’s his name?” you asked Satoka.

“I don’t know,” Satoka replied. She yelled at the owner’s son to tell her what its name was, and he replied that it was named “Mame.”

“Mame,” meaning “bean.”

You and Satoka sat on the ground, her not caring about getting her summer dress dirty, and gave Mame so much attention that he eventually got sick of you two and ran away. When that happened, you retook your seats just as another car pulled into the driveway.

“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m late,” John’s voice called out to everyone.

As you were sitting in the back with Satoka, it was a few seconds before he saw you, and his smile faded like you had just shot him.

You looked at his kicked-puppy expression, feeling a bit bad for him as he sat down quite a ways away from you.

The students kept chatting on without you and Satoka, and when the hot dogs were finally done, one of your “funny” classmates had the bright idea of saying:

“Wow! These look like ochinchins!”

All chatter in the group stopped on a dime. You, horrified, looked at Satoka, one of the few girls there, and she mirrored your expression.

“Ochinchin,” if you don’t all know, is the word that little boys use to call their penises. It’s somewhat of a meme word on the Internet, which you understood fully, but fucking hell, you don’t just say it out loud in a group of actual Japanese people.

“No, these are not weiners,” one of the Japanese students finally said, breaking the tense silence, and people began talking again.

You shot a mean look at your classmate, which went unnoticed, and took another slice of watermelon.

We ate and talked until the sun set. When it finally got dark, and the mosquitoes came out to bite your legs, the Japanese host student brought out a pack of American and Japanese sparklers.

You spun around with your sparkler, drawing patterns in the darkness with your host sister. The American sparklers ran out, and the Japanese students taught us how Japanese sparklers worked.

You held the sparkler as it burned down, trying not to move it, until it fell down onto the ground. To win was to let the flame burn all the way down the sparkler before it fell, which rarely happened, as random gusts of wind usually blew off the flame.

For my first Japanese sparkler, you stood deathly still, wanting to win. Your flame travelled half-ways down my sparkler, and most everyone else’s had dropped already, to their loud chagrins. The students congratulated you for getting so far, and they ushered you to keep going.

It seemed like everyone was watching you as your flame slowly burned down. You glanced up, and met John’s eyes. He was the only other person to still have his sparkler burning, but it was ruined when he flinched from your gaze.

Your stomach dropping, you gave up on your sparkler.

We all finished off the rest of the food, and Satoka called her mom to come pick us up. You saw John standing to the side, trying to get Mame the cat to come to him.

You walked up to him quietly, your hands in your pockets.

“It’s easier if you sit on the ground,” you told him. “Cats like having people on their level. It makes you seem less threatening, or something.”

John turned towards you like he was shocked that you were speaking with him. Which, he probably was. In hindsight, you had acted like a huge douche to him.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “For ignoring you and threatening to hit you and stuff.”

John sat down and held out his fingers for Mame. You sat down beside him, spreading your legs wide.

“I forgive you,” John said. Mame bypassed John and headed towards you. Thinking that you had made a bond with him, you smiled and began petting him again. However, Mame just started licking your fingers, which you had been eating a hamburger with, to get off the little parts of meat and the grease.

“Wow, I see how it is,” you clicked your tongue, but allowed the cat to taste you further if that meant that you could pet him longer.

“Where is your group going after your homestay is over?” John asked you.

“I dunno,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I want to see you… all again. Maybe we’ll be staying at the same hotel?” John said.

“Perhaps,” you said.

“I just don’t want to not see your group for the rest of the trip, and then not get a chance to see you all before you head home, you know? That would suck,” John said.

“It would,” you agreed. “Hey, do you want my phone number?”

John perked up at that.

“Yeah, I’d love to have that!”

You asked for his phone, and you entered him in as a contact. You then offered your iPhone for him to do the same.

“Heh,” John snorted. “Nice background.”

“Do you have a problem with Rainbow Dash?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not judging you on your background, which was clearly an image of you kissing a movie poster of Nic Cage, so…”

“Bluh,” John said.

“Wait, do you have Pesterchum?” you asked, recognizing that he had the same app on his home page.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied.

“Sweet,” you said, taking his phone again to give you your chumhandle.

However, your host mother arrived before he could give you his, and you waved bye to him as you headed back in your family’s smart car.

\--------------------

It was Sunday, and the last day that you would be staying with your host family. You all went sightseeing at many places: travelling to a temple, two small markets, the Kyoto Coca-Cola Museum, the Kyoto Manga Museum (where you picked up a few copies of Hunter x Hunter), and finally you went out to eat for Sukiyaki, the one Japanese dish you told your family you’ve always wanted to try.

You were seated in a traditional Japanese restaurant. Barely containing your excitement, you waited until a waitress came in with green tea, and then started cooking the meat for everyone.

Just like in the few videos you’ve watched on how to prepare Sukiyaki, the pot was filled with vegetables, mushrooms, and then thin slices of beef. The beef was topped with sugar, and everyone was given a raw egg as a dipping sauce for the beef.

Still not fully trusting the raw egg, you tried the beef by itself, and it was so scrumptious that you took a few pieces from the pot before anyone else could have them. You dipped a piece in the raw egg, and it somehow tasted a million times better, and god, you could just die eating this shit.

Before you knew it, the meat and vegetables were gone, and you were out the door. Your eye caught a board with the prices of food at the store, and you read that Sukiyaki was really fucking expensive. Knowing what your host family had done for you, you thanked them profusely on the way home.

Your host family headed home after that, the day coming to a close, and you took one last shower while staring sadly at the house bath. You fell asleep after you found none of your remaining fanfictions seemed interesting enough to you to stay up for.

\--------------------

The next day, you packed up your things, said farewell to your host family, thanked them for taking care of you, and you all headed to the school to take one last picture with everyone. Everyone started bursting into tears, including you, and Satoka held herself together for a while until she couldn’t take it anymore, and she was sobbing openly and hugging you like she never wanted to let go.

Your group headed on a bus back to Tokyo, everyone drying their eyes and feeling dead inside. It took a half hour for you all to adjust to not being a host student anymore, and finally you all could manage to talk together again.

You forgot to charge your DS, so it finally died on the bus ride, which left you with just your phone. Luckily, the bus had WIFI, so you signed in. Your phone received two notifications immediately.

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EG] has started pestering timeausTestified [TT] --

EG: hey dirk! :B

EG: dirk?

EG: oh, i hope this is you.

EG: i’ll be so sad if you wrote down the wrong chumhandle, and i’m just messaging some random dude.

EG: wow this is awkward. if you’re dirk just tell me, and if you’re not… ignore this i guess?

\-- ectoBiologist [EG] has ceased pestering timeausTestified [TT] --

 

The only other notification on your phone is of Dave sending you a picture of his latest art project, which mostly just involves him finding dead bugs and putting them into jars, all covered with glitter, and you reply to him a quick, “Nice,” before turning your attention to John’s messages.

 

\-- timeausTestified [TT] started pestering ectoBiologist [EG] --

TT: Who the fuck is Dirk?

TT: How did you get this chumhandle? This is a top-secret channel of the FBI, dealing with strictly confidential presidential affairs.

TT: We’ve just been barraged with multiple assassination attempts on our head of state, so we’re sending our black-ops Secret Service soldiers right to your exact location to take you out.

TT: You obviously know too much. We cannot allow you to live.

EB: shut the fuck up, dirk.

EB: i know it’s you.

TT: Fuck. How possibly did you come to that conclusion?

TT: I had this ruse all thought out and planned.

TT: This was to be a high-stakes, R-rated roleplay that ended with me coming to your location, throwing you to the ground as you begged for mercy, and me shooting you and flying away like a badass.

TT: Unless you’d rather we take the alternate ending, where you escape and have to take on a whole different identity and live in some foreign country, herding goats.

TT: You’ll live until your old age, until one day I’ll show up at your door, and you’ll be so scared you’ll shit yourself, and then die promptly of a heart attack.

EB: holy shit. that’s so messed up, dude.

TT: Or, you could take the alternate-alternate ending, wherein we just become friends and fistbump each other the next time we meet again, with no murder and government agencies involved whatsoever.

EB: wow. nerd.

TT: How dare you insult me like this. I thought we were best tomodachi.

EB: haha, whatever. anyway, i wanted to talk with you about where your group is going. have you figured that out yet? :B

TT: Oh, no I haven’t. Let me ask my Sensei.

EB: nerd.

TT: She says that we’re going to Osaka before heading back to Tokyo.

EB: sweet! we’re going to osaka, too.

TT: I guess I’ll see you there.

EB: yeah, totally! :D

EB: my bus just arrived at our hotel so i gotta go. talk to you later, dirk.

TT: Good-bye.

\-- ectoBiologist [EG] has ceased pestering timeausTestified [TT] --

 

Your group didn’t end up heading to any hotel. Instead, you all found a mall to shop. Remembering that you were getting low on pads, you looked all around the nearest convenience store, but finding none, you gave up and headed to your Sensei to ask where you could find them.

As the other boys in your group played in an arcade, you and your Sensei headed to the mall’s supermarket, where she pointed you to the pads and you gratefully bought a bunch of them.

You and your teacher climbed back upstairs, and she told everyone that it was time to go to karaoke.

“Yes!” you shouted, pumping your fist in the air.

This was the shit you’ve been waiting for. You loved to sing, and now you could sing anime songs with your classmates and have a great-ass time doing it. Your other classmates looked hesitant to join in, but a few of them bought a room with you, and you told them to order melon soda.

“Why melon soda?” a classmate asked you.

“Trust me,” you assured him. “This is the best pop you’ll ever taste.”

You all got into a room, and your sodas were served. You sipped yours slowly, and your classmates were surprised to find that the melon soda tasted so good.

Your classmates sang a few popular American songs before you took the mic to sing some anime songs that the karaoke machine had in its roster. Finally, and to your delight, you found the Neon Genesis Evangelion opening. You set it up to play after your next song, and you waited.

When your classmate’s turn had ended, you took up the mic and prepared to sing your heart out.

You’d memorized all of the lyrics to this song. It was your destiny to sing it.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it as the first few bars came on.

With your classmates watching in awe, you sang the entire song without English subtitles, your voice even growing scratchy as you belted out the notes. When the song was over, you coughed heavily into your shirt and took a huge swig of your melon soda. Then, a knock came from the door.

You turned towards it, expecting an employee to be coming by that your time was up, or maybe even because you had been too loud, but no. There stood John.

And, was he crying?

He was crying.

You swung the door open and he jumped into your arms. With your arms pinned to your sides and your face on his shoulder, he hugged you like you were about to die.

“I saw everything!” John gasped, his voice wet with tears. “You sang so beautifully, and oh my god.”

John sniffed.

“Just... marry me,” he mumbled into your shirt, pressing his head on you and shaking.

You relaxed in his grasp and looked behind you to see your classmates gaping at you. You led John out of the room and called behind you that you’d be right back, and to just sing without you. John came with you down the hall.

“Dude, are you okay?” you asked him.

“Huh?” he said.

“Why are you getting so emotional?” you asked, slightly weirded out.

“I don’t know… I don’t even know, Dirk…” he replied.

John tried to use his shirt to blow his nose, but you instead dragged him to the men’s bathrooms to get him some toilet paper. When he saw his red eyes in the mirror, he started, and he seemed to actually clear himself more.

“Whoa, I look awful,” he said, wiping off his face.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you replied absentmindedly. However, he seemed to brighten up substantially at that.

“Ohh, and what do you mean by that?” John asked with a teasing wink.

“I didn’t mean anything,” you replied, turning away.

“You don’t think I look ‘awful?’”

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“So, you find me attractive?”

“I cannot confirm or deny that statement.”

“Dirk,” John sighed.

“Fine, I give up,” you acquiesced. “You, John, are cute on Sundays, Mondays, Wednesdays, and all business holidays. There, happy?”

John snorted.

“You’re weird, dude,” he said.

“No weirder than someone who unironically wears the Big Bang Theory t-shirts,” you shot back.

John looked down at his shirt.

“Oh, yeah.”

“ _ Yeah _ , John.”

“It is kind of a shit show...”

“ _ Exactly _ , John.”

Now both of you were smiling together in the restrooms.

“I need to get back to my group,” you told him.

“I’ll walk you back,” he volunteered.

You gave him a look, and he spluttered.

“N-not like that. As a friend, a pal, not as a… date.”

You grinned, and he followed you back to your room. He told you to pester him later, and then he ran off to find his group, with your eyes on him entire he went out of sight.

“So, how are y’all doing?” you greeted your classmates, sitting down.

“We drank all of your melon soda,” the boy sitting next to you said. He let out a disgusting burp.

“Fuck you all,” you said.

\--------------------

You were finally on the last days of your trip. You arrived at your last hotel, which turned out to be incredibly fancy and modern. The advisor of the groups came over to check with all of the groups, and when she came to yours, she looked to you with sympathy.

“It must be hard being the only girl in your group,” she told you.

You thought, ‘not this shit again,’ and laughed a short, stifled laugh in place of actually agreeing with her.

She didn’t take your hint, but moved on to the group beside you. She had already done her damage, though, and your mood was now shit. Fucking fantabulous.

Your group got your room keys, and lucky you for being the only person designated-female-at-birth, because you weren’t forced to share a room with someone like the other boys.

You got your own fancy room with a plush bed, a functional shower and bath, and fast wifi. You called Dave to tell him about your trip (and mostly just to be able to complain about your annoying classmates), and you texted Rose a selfie you’d taken with your prized, shirtless Kaworu figurine.

With nothing else to do, and not wanting to go outside your hotel room and interact with other people, you started browsing your social media accounts. You remembered that a line of new Steven Universe episodes had been released last week in America, and so you binge-watched them while snacking on some Japanese candy.

In the middle of an episode, your phone buzzed, cutting off the audio for a few seconds. You paid it no mind, until a minute later, when you got a chain of messages, which cut off nearly thirty seconds of the episode.

You clicked out of the screen, preparing to yell at someone, before seeing that John had messaged you.

 

\-- ectoBiologist [EG] has started pestering timeausTestified [TT] --

EG: hey dirk, are you staying in the royal hotel?

EG: dirk. i saw one of your classmates, which means there’s an 100% chance 

that you’re here

EG: well, i suppose not an 100% chance. you could have been kicked off the trip 

for being so LAME and not answering your messages.

EG: dirk. i’m asking your classmate which room you’re staying in.

EG: i’m coming up.

 

You heard a knock at your door just as you finished reading his last message, and you rolled your eyes and debated not opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

However, when he started to whine your name, you had to throw open your door to let him in.

“Dirk!” John shouted, enveloping you again in an impromptu hug.

“John,” you parroted back.

“It’s so nice to see you again,” John said.

“Right? It’s been, like,” you pretended to check an imaginary watch on your wrist. “A day since we’ve seen each other.”

“That’s wayyyy too long!” John said, swinging your arm.

“I understand that you need your daily helping of Dirk Strider to continue living, John, but I have my own needs, too,” you tell him.

“Oh? And what are those?”

“My need for personal space,” you deadpanned.

John dropped your arm with an “oh,” but then he invited himself to jump onto your bed.

“Haha, nice Harry Potter blanket. Are you really a Slytherin?” John teased, cuddling up with your soft blanket.

“Don’t mess my sheets up,” you warned.

“Aren’t Slytherins bad people? They’re the evil ones, right?” John asked, seeming to have no idea.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“No, Slytherins aren’t inherently good or bad people. They are mostly influenced negatively by their upbringings, and then by the other houses’ ridicule and shunning of them, which leads them to only be loyal to themselves, which doesn’t even bring up the toxic case of Voldemort and how he poisoned the house to reflect his… why am I even arguing this with you. Are you even into Harry Potter?” you asked John.

“Not really,” John said, snuggling up into your pillow. He fake-yawned and pretended to go asleep.

“I’m tired! I think I’m going to sleep here tonight, Dirk. Good night!”

You stood there, shocked, before you went up to John and tried to push him off your bed.

“This is my bed, dude, don’t you have your own?”

“Yeahhhh, but it’s so far away…” he moaned.

“Where the fuck will I sleep if you’re in my bed.”

“I don’t know~” John sung with a grin. “I guess if there’s nowhere else for you to sleep, you could sleep with me?”

Your mouth dropped open. With a final huge push, you knocked him off of your bed and onto the floor.

“Ouch!” John rubbed his head.

“You should go back to your room. I was in the middle of doing something,” you tell him.

“Oh, and what were you doing? Crocheting?” John asked disbelievingly, looking around the room.

“For your information.” You swiped your phone awake and showed him your screen. “I was watching the new Steven Universe episodes.”

“OH, sweet! I forgot about them!” John said. He snuggled up to your side.

“Let’s watch them together.”

“No, John. I’m already on the third episode.”

“Why can’t you just go back to the beginning one? Please?”

John gave you his best puppy-eyes. You cracked after a minute, and relaxed beside him.

“Only because they’re such good episodes that I wouldn’t mind seeing them again,” you said.

You and John settled on your bed, both of you resting on your fluffy pillows, and you started to watch the new episodes with him.

\--------------------

Your alarm, an 8-bit cover of the Madoka Magica opening theme, awoke you at exactly eight a.m.. You found your phone on the floor and turned off its alarm. You tried to fall back asleep again when an arm was thrown across your face, and you moved it to find John sleeping peacefully in your bed.

He was snoring quietly, and you couldn’t help appreciating his face as he slept. His buck-teeth were quite cute, and he had a green retainer in his mouth which meant that he used to wear braces. You knew that, because you had a similar retainer on your bathroom counter.

Your stomach, waking up for the day and demanding food, pushed you into waking John up.

“John,” you called out, lightly shaking his shoulder.

He grunted and then moved away from your hand.

“John, wake up. It’s time to go to breakfast.”

You started flicking John’s nose.

“Dad, stop,” he mumbled. “It’s summer, there’s no school.”

You snorted.

“John, my son. It’s the first day of school already. You’d better get up if you want to get to first period on time,” you said, playing along.

“What?” He muttered, mid-snore.

“John, it’s true. Listen to me, your father. You’ve slept in, and you’re already five minutes late to school. If you don’t hurry and get dressed, or they might expel you.”

“Oh no,” John gasped, rubbing his eyes and getting up.

You flicked his forehead, and he started.

“You’re not my dad,” he pouted.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you replied.

“Did I fall asleep here?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“In your bed?”

“Apparently.”

“That’s pretty gay,” John joked.

You bit back a retort, and John stood up and headed to the bathroom. You waited for him to get done, and then you brushed your teeth and did your morning routine. Twenty minutes later, you expected him to have gone back to his room, but he was still on your bed. Inspecting your Kaworu figurines.

“Hey!” you lunged to take them away from him.

“Oof,” he gasped as you landed on his stomach. “I was just looking at them!” 

“Did you go through my luggage??” you asked.

“Of course not! I’m not a creep!” John said, grimacing. “I just saw one of his heads sticking out and opened the top, that’s all!”

“Okay, you saw them, now put them back. Let’s go to breakfast.”

“Okay, fine, fine,” John relented, putting your figurines neatly back in your luggage pouch.

“I’m heading out,” you said, opening the door. You’ve stepped two steps beyond your door when you run right into your Sensei.

You both apologized at running into each other, and then you’re about to wish her a good morning, when your door opened and John came out.

Your Sensei stared at him, and then you, and at your room number.

“Dirk? Why was this student in your room?” she asked you, looking about ready to pick up her phone and dial the police.

“Oh, Sensei, it’s fine!” you assured her.

“He’s my-”

“I’m his-”

“Friend.” “Boyfriend.”

You turn and look at John, who suddenly goes red.

“He’s your boyfriend, Dirk?” your teacher asks you.

“Y-yes,” you replied, wanting to just dig a hole and the ground and bury yourself alive.

“Okay…” your Sensei said, looking John up and down again. “You didn’t do anything… bad… I hope.”

“Oh, no, never, Sensei!” you say frantically.

She looks at you, conflicted.

“I’m supposed to report if this happens, but Dirk… I believe you’re telling the truth, so…” 

“We won’t do it again,” John rushed to say.

“Never,” you added.

Your Sensei slowly nodded and walked away, leaving you two in the hallway.

“Dirk-” John started to speak.

“Let’s get breakfast,” you said, cutting him off.

\--------------------

You’re on your second helping of eggs and bacon when John finally speaks up.

“I hope you’re not mad, Dirk, that I told your teacher that I was your… you know… boyfriend.”

“Why would I be mad?” you shoot back at him, drinking some orange juice.

“Well, I just don’t know if you want to… if you think that I’m going too far… if you, um… don’t want to be my…”

“You don’t know if I’d ever be your boyfriend, and you don’t want to ruin our relationship by declaring yourself to be mine before you actually are?” you said for him.

“Yes.”

“John, do you really want me for a boyfriend,” you ask.

“I, I do,” he said.

“Interesting,” you said.

“Huh?”

“Hm?”

“What’s so interesting?” he asked you.

You chew on your straw.

“I’m not used to people being romantically attracted to me, I guess,” you say bluntly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Oh…”

John’s face fell, and he seemed like he was going to throw away his plate when you stopped him.

“That wasn’t a “no,” John.”

“What?” he asked, his eyes shining into mine.

“You know I’m transgender? And you’re okay with that?” you question.

“Well, yeah. You’re planning to take hormones and get like… a man’s body later, aren’t you?” he asked back.

“That is correct. I do plan to do all of that,” you answered.

“So, do you want to be my boyfriend or not? Because if not, and I’ve overstepped a line, I’m so sorry Dirk, a-and I take it all back, because you’re such a good friend to me and I don’t want to-”

You shut up John by putting a finger to his mouth. On a whim, you leaned forward to give his lips a quick kiss, and they’re chapped yet they felt like the best thing you could’ve ever touched.

“I’ll be your boyfriend, John,” you said, giving him one of your (recently-not-so) rare smiles.

“Woo!” John exclaimed. A few groggy students turned towards you with glares, but you couldn’t stop grinning.

John quickly pulled out his phone, and you felt like you had to do the same.

“I’m telling all of my friends about us—about you,” he told you, his cheeks red as a strawberry, and his grin as dazzling as the sun’s rays reflecting off the ocean’s horizon.

“Sweet,” you laugh. You start up Pesterchum, and—fuck yeah, Dave is online. He’s going to be so jealous when you tell him this.

\--------------------

On the ride home back to the ‘States, John traded seats with one of his classmates to sit next to you.

You both played video games on your DS’s, and he challenged you to a Pokemon battle that you barely beat him in. He was a sore loser, and immediately bemoaned your good luck (“How come you got TWO critical hits?!”) and demanded a rematch. You played him again, this time not really taking it quite as seriously, and he decimated your team.

He looked so proud that you almost wanted to smack that grin off his face. You saved your game and took out your PS Vita, inviting him to play your Hatsune Miku rhythm game, which he failed spectacularly at, even on its easiest levels.

“I’m in band! This should be so easy, but it doesn’t make any sense,” he complained.

“Maybe it’s because you haven’t heard the songs before,” you suggested.

“And it’s all in Japanese, I can’t speak that,” he muttered.

“You sure can’t,” you smirked.

John nodded for a second, agreeing with you before realizing what you’d said.

“Hey, do you have anything to say to me, Dirk?” he asked you.

“Only that I’ll have to tutor you when we get home,” you told him. “Do you have Skype?”

“Yeah, duh,” he shot back.

“Well, then, let’s call it a date.”

“Let’s,” he agreed.

You laid your head on his shoulder, ignoring his sweat, and he wrapped his arm around your body.


End file.
